Clevermind
by awesomehatyougotthere
Summary: Alex wanted to stay in school. Obviously, law-defying killers have different ideas. However, good ol' Alex isn't giving in that easily. Will a little.. cheating help?
1. EP rising

**A/N: Hey guys! This is my first non-humour fic! I hope you'll like it. I have a busy life so I do apologise if I don't update in a while, but the next chapter should be up shortly after this one. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Alex Rider, do you seriously think you would be reading this on the internet? Seriously? Do you?**

The man collapsed heavily on the floor, breathing thickly and rapidly; tiredness finally defeating him. He had been running for the past hour, running for his life, but his hunters just didn't relent in the chase and had finally caught their prey. "It is a shame, Raven, that you should betray our organisation for something as common as money. Do you regret it now?" A voice, devoid of emotion said. A hand roughly grabbed the man by the hair, pulling him to his knees. There were five other people, one with a gun pointed directly at the man's head. "Do you regret it now?" The voice said again. The man nodded, trembling as he felt the cold metal press against his forehead. "Remember, Ebony Phoenix is not a force to take lightly. We are assassins. We have guns, and we are NOT afraid to use them." The voice was cold and sharp, like a knife. It had no accent.

Yassen Gregorovich nodded at the man standing next to him, commanding for him to pull the trigger. The man Gregorovich was next to gently lowered the limp body to the floor. "Good, leave the body. We have more important matters to prepare for."

Yassen turned and walked towards his helicopter which was being fired up. "I'm coming to get you, little Alex. I'm coming to get you, whether you like it or not.

**A/N: I know it was short, but the rest of the chapters won't be I promise! I hope you liked, PLEASE tell me what you thought. I live for reviews and they greatly improve the speed of which I write and the quality of what I write! PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE! (: **

**Awesomehatgyougotthere X**


	2. An ordinary day for Alex

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm so sorry I haven't updated in a while, but, it was my birthday, so I was pretty much heading out (home) and partying non-stop (sleeping). But, I'm here now. I AM SO GRATEFUL TO ALL WHO REVEIWED! Honestly, I've never had so many at once! Thank you to all of you. This chapter is for you!**

"Mr Rider? Can you tell me the answer?" Alex snapped out of his stupor, only to meet a glare from the teacher. He stared at the complicated maths on the board. Noticing the boy's blank face, the teacher sighed. She had heard that the boy had no parents and his uncle had recently died. She knew that life must be hard for him, but even the doctor's notes explaining his absence did not explain why the poor kid had a large bruise on his cheek, multiple scrapes and cuts and more bruises on his limbs. She had noticed him occasionally clutch at his chest, as if something had been there, and ripped out. The boy was always wary, eyes darting around the room. When ever a car pulled up outside the school he would always snap round and glare at the car. It was as if he was expecting something bad to happen. "Alex?" She repeated. "Forty three?" Alex replied. "No, Alex. You need to pay more attention in future. I need to speak with you in a moment." The teacher set the rest of the class some work while she went to speak with Alex, who was sitting next to an empty seat. She was about to speak with him, when a car pulled up in the car park outside. Alex snapped round, his senses on full alert. The car was black, sleek and expensive. Although Alex's face remained neutral, the teacher could tell he was uneasy. After that car, several others followed, some swerving into the other car parks that surrounded different parts of the school. Alex watched some men in black suits and sunglasses climb gracefully out of the car. He doubted this was MI6. They would never arrive in such an obvious fashion.

Alex's grip on his chair turned white-knuckle. "Alex?" The teacher said. Then her face paled dramatically when she saw that the men were armed. Moments later, the men came crashing through the door. "Everyone on the floor! Now! Get down!" Students instantly responded to the men's yells, screams and screeches of panic escaped from the terrified students as they dived under their desks. The teacher did the same. "Shut it! Or we shoot!" One man, who looked like a bear commanded.

The screams subsided to a few sobs. Alex remained seated and simply huffed. _Here we go again… _Alex sighed to himself. The bear man looked at the boy. "Why, boy, are you not cowering under your desk like your class mates? Are you not frightened?" Alex looked at the bear man and said nothing. "Answer me, boy." The bear man pushed. When Alex didn't answer again, the bear man seized him by the throat, lifting him clean off the floor. "Are you frightened?" Alex looked the bear man in the eye.

"No." He replied.

The steely glare surprised the bear man, but he did not show it. "What is your name?" The bear man asked.

"Why are you here?" Alex questioned. "You have a nerve, to ask an assassin a question." The bear man said.

"You have a nerve to hold me by the throat." Alex swung his feet forward, throwing a powerful kick to the man's crown jewels. The man doubled over, dropping Alex. Alex made for the door but to more men blocked his path, one grabbed Alex by the back of the collar, pushing him back into another chair.

One of them bent forward and whispered into his ear. "You forget. We have the whole school locked down. In two words we could have the whole school killed. Don't do anything stupid, boy." Alex shivered.

The whole school was locked down. MI6 couldn't do anything. He couldn't do anything. They were screwed. The bear man recovered from his shock and came over to Alex, grabbing the boy by the back of the head, pulling painfully at the blonde hair. Alex hissed. "We're looking for someone, to answer your question." Then the bear man turned to the class.

"Does anyone know… Alex Rider?" The class was silent. The bear man turned to one of his companions and muttered something in heavily accented German. The companion laughed and muttered something back. "Perhaps… a little encouragement…" Suddenly, the bear man pulled a knife from his belt and held it to Alex's throat. The class froze in shock.

Alex didn't acknowledge the knife pressed against his neck, instead, he was thinking. So, the men in black were after him. For what reason he wasn't so sure. He decided that he had to lead the terrorists away from the school, just to ensure that his school was safe, he was pretty certain they would rather go for him, instead of handling around 600 school kids. But… to get away, he would need a distraction. Alex made eye contact with Tom. Although terrified, Tom got the gist of Alex's strangled gesture.

"Alex? Alex Rider? He's not at school today, he's ill, I think. But, hell, what do you want with him?" Tom snapped, voice shivering with fear. "It's not of your concern. So, where is this… Rider boy?" The bear man questioned.

"How should I know? He hasn't been at school for months. I know his house keeper was really distraught lately, one of Alex's best friends said that Alex is dead. Suicide or a car crash… maybe, oh wait! Apparently, he got shot!" Tom exclaimed. There were a few gasps from the class. The bear man and his companions stood, looking questioningly at Tom, all their attention fixed on him.

Now! Alex struck out, planting his foot in his captor's stomach. The man doubled over, dropping Alex and the knife. Alex scooped up the knife in his hand, making for the door. A thin, fit man (a companion of the bear man) blocked his way, but before the man could think, Alex had rugby tackled him onto the floor and was now sprinting away. "After him!" Some one called in French. Alex sped over to the fence that surrounded the school, keeping the students in like caged animals.

He scaled it easily but landed awkwardly on the other side, crushing his wrist painfully. He winced, then picked himself up, continuing his sprint for life. Behind him, he heard a crackle on the radio, in a language that Alex didn't understand. By the sound of the accent, he would have presumed it was eastern European, perhaps Russian. Alex heard the bear man yell something back into the radio. Alex ran across the park field that was placed next to his school, it was a huge park, lots of open space. This would give him no cover if the men decided to shoot.

Suddenly, Alex heard a helicopter loom over-head. Momentarily he looked up to see a black, almost sinister helicopter flying low over his head, so low, it nearly sawed Alex 's nose off, had he not ducked. It landed in front of him. Alex's running feet ground to a halt. This couldn't be good. A man, looking all too familiar, stepped out. He had a gun. Alex couldn't believe his eyes.

Yassen Gregorovich, once thought to be dead, stepped towards him. _This is messed up,_ Alex thought, stepping backwards, dragging a hand through his golden hair. _This is so, so messed up._ "Do not fight me Alex." Yassen said, his voice devoid of all emotion. Alex stepped back again, only to bump into something solid. His eyes widened. The bear man. Suddenly, he was struck on the side of the head, he fell to the ground, the last moments of consciousness escaping him. "Do not fight me."

**A/N: I hope you liked it, I'll tell you what Yassen wants Alex for in later chapters. I'll try and update shortly. Please review (as always), you know I love reviews. (who doesn't?) Thank you for reading this and I hope you enjoy the rest of the fic! See you for now!**

**Awesomehatyougotthere X**


	3. Have Faith!

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, but I was ill. I felt like I was being repeatedly shot in the head, but I'm fine now. This chapter reveals what Yassen wants Alex for. Thank you to all who reviewed/subscribed/favourite adders. The constructive criticism was EXTREMELY useful! I'm glad you informed me of my mistakes. Enjoy!**

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Alex awoke, head throbbing. When his vision had finally focused, he recognised he was cuffed to a chair in the middle of a dark room.

-…-

"Missing? What do you mean he's _missing_?" Jack screeched down the phone line.

"We mean, he's missing, Miss Starbright." Mrs Jones replied in a sickeningly formal tone.

"Apparently, the whole school was locked down by a criminal group. They were looking for Alex according to one class. We fear that the organisation might have kidnapped Alex…"

Jack spat. "More likely, killed him!" She screamed, frustration tearing at her throat. "We will look for him, have faith, Miss Starbright." Mrs Jones said coolly.

"Sure, sure, coz you gotta have faith, faith, faith! Baby, you gotta have faith, faith, faith!" Sang Jack through the receiver.

"Yes, Miss Starbright. Your George Michel Impersonation is less than impressive."

"Just find Alex will you!" She screeched again, then slammed the phone down.

She sighed. Why did stuff like this always happen to Alex? He did not belong in the world he was in. He did not deserve what had happened to him. The boy was surrounded by death. By reality. Jack hated to see him hurt, but now, every day, it seemed inevitable for him to come home with yet another part of himself destroyed.

-…-

The door opened. Alex saw a man, heavily built and dressed in black. The man flicked a switch. A single, naked bulb, hanging above his head, buzzed on. The man flicked another switch, and a section in the wall slid down to reveal a panel of glass, of which, Yassen and a few others were standing behind. Yassen's emotionless voice sifted through an intercom.

"Alex."

Alex did nothing. His head was still spinning slightly.

"Do not ignore me, Alex."

"W-Why am I here?" Alex mumbled through dry lips.

"You are here to complete your bloodline."

Silence.

"What?" Alex said, completely confused. Yassen bit back a smirk.

"You never knew about your relatives? Your blood line?" His voice was sharp, one you wouldn't back chat to.

"No, they never told me anything. My uncle, he never told me anything." Alex was hating this. What did Yassen mean 'complete his bloodline'? Why the hell was he here and why the hell was he cuffed to a chair?

Yassen turned to one of the people standing next to him. He muttered a few words of flawless Spanish and was later handed a disk. In front of Yassen, was a laptop. The assassin inserted the disk. Alex watched in awe as a picture flickered up onto the wall in front of him. He presumed there must have been a projector behind him.

A black and white picture of a man appeared on the wall.

"This, Alex is your great, great, great, great grandfather. William Rider. He was an assassin. As was every generation after him. Your father, was inclined to carry on the tradition. It was believed to be… 'In the blood' of the Rider family, that the son -or in your Uncle's case- sons, of a Rider had to become an Assassin. Ian was going to teach you of this tradition, but, unfortunately, he never got round to it."

"That was no fault of mine." Alex murmured. Yassen ignored this.

"So… you're going to make me into an assassin…" Alex inwardly grimaced.

"Yes." Yassen said, his voice a void of emotion.

Alex frowned. "In your dreams Yassen!" He yelled, "I am never going to become an assassin! I don't want to! You can't make me!"

"Shame," Yassen said, almost to himself. "Because you don't actually have a choice."

* * *

I **Hope you liked it. I will probably update shortly if nothing happens to me. Please review (as always). It really urges me on to write more. I would like to say a MASSIVE thank you to all who reviewed. They were: 32 star, Coolio0014, ARfan, A, Ko-pia, Cap't Mo, Writertron (Legend), potato mash, Bubzchoc, NINJA BANANA, ana, TBM, guepard54, Usagi412XD, (The brilliant) 5nap dragon, and of course, the amazing: IGotObsessiveCullenDisorder! See you all soon! **


	4. Family unfortunes

**A;N: Hey guys! Yup, I've updated! The next chaoter is kinda a filler, but I hope you liked it anyway! Thanks to all who reviewed (Bless you Writertron) and I hope you enjoy the chapter! Enjoy!**

"Wait, wait, wait, let me get my head round this!" Alex exclaimed, still tied to the chair. Yassen cocked an eyebrow and waited while Alex tried to think. _He said my Uncle was an assassin too? I thought he was just a spy! That's what MI6 said, wasn't it? _"So, Ian was an assassin? MI6 told me he was their spy!"

Yassen raised an eyebrow even higher. "Alex. Who did they tell you killed your uncle?"

Alex, slightly puzzled by the question, glared at the assassin.

"…You..." He trailed.

"Did they tell you that they paid me to kill him? Before Sayle did? Did they tell you that Ian had been feeding intelligence to the Mafia? Did they tell you-"

"WAIT! Ian had been helping the Mafia? Being a mole?" Alex exclaimed, even more confused.

"Basically, yes." Yassen said, amusement pooling in his voice. The boy was so confused. He'd been lied to all his life. Well, he was going to get the truth now. The truth, the truth, and nothing but the truth. Yassen would make sure of that. Meanwhile, Alex just sat, staring at the ceiling, confusion creasing his brow. _Why am I being told this now? It makes sense… explains why MI6 hates me…_ _but… It can't be true! _

"You're lying!" Alex snapped, half hoping the assassin was.

"Why would I lie? When have I ever lied to you? I can tell by the pained look in your eyes that you do not want to accept the truth, because you have never known the truth before." Yassen retorted suddenly, eyes flaming with a flash of silver.

"Alex, believe me." Yassen commanded. "You need to leave behind all the lies, start a-new. Then, gradually, the world will make sense."

"But I don't want to be an assassin! If I wanted to start a new life, I would go to France, go to a new school, get a new identity! I don't want the life of a killer!" Alex yelled, his voice echoing around the room.

"Alex, clam down!" Yassen said.

"No! I will not calm down! I will not! I will not become the killer you want me to be-"

"The killer _I_ want you to be? It is not me that wants you to be the assassin you could be. It is your family! Your father!" Yassen hissed, voice dangerously filled with invisible anger.

"Don't bring him into this!" Alex exclaimed, pulling at his restraints.

"Sorry…" Yassen apologised. "I was only telling you the truth."

Alex fell silent. He knew the assassin was only telling him the truth, the thing that he had never known. He hated the truth, now he knew why people lied. Truth hurts. It burns. He almost felt ashamed at himself for getting so angry with Yassen.

"I-"

"It's OK Alex, I know how you feel, after all, I had to go through the same thing…"

"WHAT!"

Yassen simply gave the boy an emotionless look before turning. "I will tell you in time Alex, in time. Be patient. Learn."

-…-

Alex lay on his new bed, exhausted but thoughtful. He had been taken to this room by the bear man and an assistant of his. Yassen had said little, but had mentioned something about training… revealing more of the truth… training… John Rider… training… Chinchillas… training…

Alex knew Yassen was only trying to help, but he didn't want to be an assassin. _Come on Alex, what else could you be if you wont become an assassin? You've missed too much school to get a job in normal society, you can't move country, MI6 wont allow it. What have you got to lose? You could be the best, trained by the best!_ The annoying voice of reason in Alex's head whispered. Alex considered this for a moment. He knew the voice was right. He knew this was probably the best choice he had.

Suddenly, the bear man entered the room. Alex had given up fighting him a long time ago, he was simply too strong. "Gregorovich would like to see you now." The bear man grunted, gesturing towards some vague area behind him. Alex nodded, though still lost in thought.

Absently, he followed the bear man to a room. As Alex walked past the small windows, Alex realised he was in a porta-cabin. There was an abundance of snow outside. He was getting the feeling that he was on a mountain. Somewhere.

Yassen, was sitting at a desk, reading a file, in a way, he reminded Alex of Blunt. Yassen looked up from his file and muttered some German at the bear man. The bear man nodded and left them.

"Where are we?" Was Alex's first question.

"You are in the French alps, at an altitude of 5000. Do you know why?"

"Because I wouldn't be able to run away?" Alex suggested.

"Well, you wouldn't be able to run for long. But no. Because training at high altitude increases your fitness, athletes all over the world train in places like these because the decrease in air makes work harder for you, increasing your fat burn and your fitness. It is an affective way of losing weight." Yassen said, eyes not leaving the folder.

"I am testing my trainees tomorrow. I want to make sure they understand and can correctly execute the skills I have taught them. The best way to do this, is to make them show someone else. You, Alex, are in for a tough training day tomorrow. It will be both physically and mentally draining, but I assure it will be interesting. Get some sleep for now, you will need it. Good night, Alex."

Back in his room, Alex fell asleep almost instantaneously. He was drained from so much thinking. Yassen must have guessed that he would eventually go along with his plan. He knew he had no real choice in his future, and besides, staying with an assassin wasn't all that bad. Alex liked skiing, he guessed they'd be doing skiing. Of course, with his new instructors tomorrow, he wasn't sure how they would react to Alex's snarky comments. He decided he would watch his mouth tomorrow. Anyway, he let sleep fill his mind until he was eventually in the middle of a fitful rest. Peace, at last.

**A/N: Jesus! That was hard to write! Anyway, hope you liked it! I thought it was a bit…. Dodgy, but oh well, I can only improve! Thank you all who reviewed, you are legends! Writertron, you are brilliant, thank you so much for your useful tips, I'm really grateful. For that, you get a happy face: :D See, don't you just love 'em? If YOU want a smiley, then REVIEW! I love reviews, you know that, please, please review. Anyway, I will be off to France to go skiing in a few days, so, obviously, I can't update. Sorry. But as soon as I get back I will… so long as Christmas doesn't get in the way…**

**Awesomehatyougotthere**


	5. Crow boarding

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm back with another chapter! Woo! I figured that you'd all be busy with Christmas and would rather spend your holiday relaxing, rather then wasting your time with countless stories people have written about some of your favourite books. In this chapter I've got face-plants, daring escapes, more singing from Jack and a stressed Mrs Jones! What more could you want? Well, I hope you all had a brilliant Christmas. Anyways, here's my Christmas present to you: Enjoy!**

Alex leapt over the tree log before him, clearing it with quite some distance. Despite being cold and covered in ice, Alex was rather enjoying this assault course. The man in charge of the assault course, Jackal had a nice enough edge about him. He wasn't deadly serious, like some other tutors Alex had experienced. Rhino, a bulky guy with close-cropped hair was a boring git. He'd droned on for half an hour about how important it is to maintain warmth in cold conditions, similar to those Alex was currently in. Basically, he'd hoovered on about something Ian had taught him in five minutes. Alex, lost in thought, slipped on a patch of ice and skidded into a tree. He tasted blood running down his face but ignored it. He picked himself up and sprinted the last two hundred meters to where Jackal was standing with a stop watch.

"5 minutes, 32 seconds." Jackal said, clicking the stop watch. "Not bad mate, not bad at all. Though, from the amount of blood gushing out of your nose, I'd say you face-planted something." Jackal commented, pulling a tissue out of his pocket and handing it to Alex.

"You've got a skiing lesson with Crow next, I'll warn you now: When she's not talking about trees or birds, she's probably trying to test you."

"Thanks," Alex nodded, before running off to his next session, a blood-stained tissue held to his nose.

"Focus next time! I know you can beat 5:32!"

-…-

"One of Our double agents, Henderson is dead. Alex is still missing, and the prime minister is complaining that he's out of coffee." Mrs Jones huffed, snapping her folder shut. Blunt clenched his jaw. "Tell the prime minister that MI6 does not fund his coffee budget, and that he should get off his caffeine-cushioned arse and buy his own coffee. Honestly! I'm not surprised this country is in recession when it's run by that pompous, dependant little-"

"Mr Blunt." Mrs Jones interrupted.

"My apologies…erm… moving on…" Blunt huffed, embarrassed by his sudden burst of anger. "I'll look at the details of Henderson's death in a moment. Inform Miss Starbright that we have not found Alex yet." At this, Jones inwardly cringed. She hated Miss Starbright… annoying, optimistic, over-happy Americans… Jones cringed again.

Begrudgingly, she picked up the office phone and dialled.

Jack, was busy ironing some clothes, when the phone rang. She dashed downstairs and snatched up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello. Would you like to take advantage of a government banking scheme?"

"What?"

"We have a range of-"

Jack slammed the phone down. Bloody advertising companies, always ruining your Sunday.

Huffing, Jack trudged back upstairs. She had been waiting for news on Alex for a while now. She was beginning to worry. Suddenly the phone rang again.

"Hello?" Jack said, her patience wearing thin.

"Miss Starbright."

"Oh, it's you Jonesy…" The venom was evident in her voice.

"Have you found Alex?"

"Well… no. We haven't."

"WHAT?"

"However, we do have an idea as to where he might be…"

"Oh? And where is that?"

"Somewhere."

"Brilliant! A six year old couldn't be more specific! The intelligence of intelligence services never ceases to amaze me!" Jack snapped, kicking the wall.

"Miss Starbright, we understand that what has happened is a tragic loss-"

"Tragedy! When the feeling's gone and you cant go on! Tragedy-"

"..."

Mrs Jones hung up the phone and breathed a sigh of relief. Once she was done with MI6, she was going to go to some place as far as possible from Starbright. First George Michael, now the Bee Gees. Urgh, as if her day couldn't get any worse.

-…-

It was snowing heavily by the time Alex reached Crow's position. She was sat cross-legged on a mat on the snowy floor, a sniper rifle on her lap.

"Howdy," She said, not turning from her view of glorious mountains below. "You like bird watching?" She asked. Alex was quick to reply.

"Sure. I prefer the blonde ones."

Crow shot him a glare. "Moving on. This was meant to be a ski lesson, but from what I've heard, it would be a waste of your snow boarding skills. Crow got to her feet.

"There's a snow board that'll fit you in that shed over there, We'll sort the bindings out later. I'll meet you at the chairlift over there. Don't tarry." Crow gestured to a chairlift, before turning and walking towards it. Alex looked over to a small, snow-smothered shed. It had a 'Attention! Non entrée' sign on the door, but Alex guessed it was to keep the odd stray tourist from going in.

Inside, he found the snow board. It was plain, there were no patterns or pictures, but it was bright, bright yellow.

He tucked it under his arm and left the shed.

"Something's come up, I need to speak with Yak for a second. I'll meet you at the top." Crow said as Alex reached her. Crow walked into the small building next to the chair lift. That was where they usually kept the chairlift controls, so they could stop the lift at any time. When Alex had been on holiday with Ian, he'd seen people sitting in the little huts, watching from a window, so, if anyone fell over before getting on the lift, they could stop the lift so that the person could get up and steady themselves instead of scrambling to get up in a rush and ending up with a black eye.

Following the command, Alex got on the chairlift, relaxing back into the seat while being zoomed up the mountain. He looked ahead and saw that the path of the lift, it went up and over to the other side of a ridge in the mountain. Alex guessed it would take around five minutes to get there.

Suddenly, over a deep plunge in the terrain, the lift stopped.

Alex looked down. The ground looked as though it were thirty meters away- a fatal fall if he were to slip.

After around 5 minutes, Alex was beginning to get worried. The cold was beginning to set in and the snow was still falling. _"When she's not talking about trees or birds, she's usually trying to test you…" _Recalling what Jackal had said, Alex decided that this was a test. Alex reached down and loosened the bindings on his snowboard. He watched the board drop down into the snow before looking up. The cable that the chair was hanging from was within his reach, and that struck him with an idea. Carefully, he brought his feet up and stood. Holding on with one hand to steady himself, he gripped the cable, then the other hand followed. Suddenly, he swept his feet up and wrapped them around the cable. He was going to wriggle along the cable until he reached a pylon. Starting carefully to get a rhythm, Alex moved one hand, then the other, then pulled his body forward.

Watching from a distance, Yassen laughed silently. The boy was mad, but he guessed it was madness that kept him alive. Suddenly, the door opened. Yassen didn't turn, but he knew who it was. "I have the results of Rider's first run on the assault course. 5:32, just a little faster than average on primary attempts."

Yassen nodded in approval. "That's good. Tell me, have I had any calls concerning assassination contracts?"

The bear man replied: "Yes, you had one this morning. I can give you the details now, if you like."

"Yes, that would be helpful. Thank you, Mr Misaki." The bear man left the room.

Alex was making his way along the cable quite nicely now. He wasn't exactly enjoying himself however. His fingers were numb and almost as stiff as blocks of ice, snow kept getting in his eyes so he couldn't see and his face was so, so cold. The pylon was only a few meters away, but Alex's progress was slowing due to his aching arms and legs. Alex decided to stop over the plunge hole for a few seconds to regain his breath. Suddenly, the cable started moving. The lift had started moving again! Alex tilted his head forward and realised, in horror, that the pylon was going to cut his fingers off- or at the very least crush them- as soon as the cable went in between the wheels on the pylon. He panicked. Did he let go of the cable? Jump for it and hope he survived the fall? Try to scramble backwards onto the chair? He neared the pylon, desperately trying to think of something.

Just centimetres away from getting his fingers cut off, Alex let go of the cable and hoped he would survive. Suddenly, his fingers curled around cold metal, his body jolted, when Alex looked up. Somehow, miraculously, he had managed to grab a hold on the pylon and he was now dangling from a little platform with a ladder connected to it, 30 meters away from death.

Alex breathed a sigh of relief before pulling himself up and onto the platform. Once there, he collapsed and vowed to kill Crow the next time he saw her.

Yassen, was very Impressed. He hadn't seen an escape like that since John Rider. He turned back to his file. The assassination target was in a nursing home in Spain; A multi-millionaire man who ate too much, talked too much and had way too many enemies. It would be a simple job. Cheap to do and very well paid. _The perfect first kill…_

After a few more minutes of rest, Alex climbed down the icy ladder. He scrabbled around in the snow to find his snowboard before finding his way back to a piste and boarding back down to Crow.

Alex had guessed she'd still be there, and was no doubt the culprit of the chair lift problem. When Alex had joked about bird-watching, she must've really taken it seriously. _What was that I said yesterday about watching my mouth?_

Surprisingly, Yassen was there talking to Crow. When Alex approached, Yassen turned to him.

"That was rather impressive Alex." He said. " I'm afraid I'm cutting your training session early, I have a job for you."

"Why do I get a feeling I'm not going to like this?"

**A/N: Hee, hee, hee. Hope you liked it. I've got some plot twists lined up in later chapters. I'm not overly happy with this chapter, the ending is a bit dodgy, but hey, that can be fixed. As always, please review, and I hope to get the next chapter up shortly. More will be revealed about Yassen's past and I'm sure it'll be interesting. Because of my failure to update for a long time, this chapter was very long. Hope you liked it. Thanks to all who have reviewed. Potatomash, Writertron and all the rest, you are brilliant, your reveiws have been extremely useful. Happy new year everyone!**

**Awesomehatyougotthere :D**


	6. Sun, sea and old men

**A/N: Hey guys! Oh. My. Good. God! I am so sorry this update took forever. The days just kept rolling by. Plus I had to deal with a few… issues… both online and offline. Again, I apologise to those affected, I know how wrong my actions were. (Shame me). Anyway, thanks to all who reviewed, much appreciated. I hope you all like the next chapter! Enjoy!**

"No, no, no, no, no! Not a chance!" Alex shrieked, backing away from the simple, red Peugeot 206. Despite it's plain looks, Alex knew that the small car probably had bullet-proof windows and a roll cage."Alex, you're not even going to kill anyone."

"Then why are you taking me on an assassination?" Alex knew he must sound like a whiney child right now, but hell, if it got him out of being involved with cold-blooded murder, so be it.

"You know when I was working with your father, in the rainforest? Well, It was his assassination contract, and he did the killing. I was simply there to witness how a killer works, how he improvises if a situation goes wrong. That is why I'm taking you." Yassen's voice was indifferent, his face neutral.

"Now, Alex, silence your words and get in the car."

Alex, surprised by Yassen's words, complied and got into the car without another word

-…-

They drove far into the night. Alex saw civilisation for the first time in a week, and to be honest, it was a relief. He'd worked out he was in France after seeing a few signs pointing to Grenoble. His mind was buzzing, not only with memories of Ian he had had around Grenoble, but also with where Yassen was taking him, escape plans, and other things.

Civilisation gave him another shot at freedom. Although Alex didn't mind becoming an assassin anymore, he still preferred his attempt at being a school boy, and besides, when had he been one to give up on something he wanted?

"Where are we going?" Alex questioned.

"Barcelona." Yassen replied. Alex almost gaped. They were driving from Grenoble on the edge of France, to Barcelona on the coast of Spain! That was hours away! Undoubtedly, Yassen was going to drive the entire trip in one shot.

Evidently noticing Alex's gape, Yassen continued to speak.

"It's just a simple assassination task. I'll do most of the work, but I want you to observe what I do. You will have hardly any, but still some, involvement."

_I can't wait!_ Alex thought scornfully. He could almost imagine the headline:

_15 year old murderer kills innocent man:_

_Alex Rider, 15 year old from London has been found guilty of his involvement in the assassination of…_

He didn't want to think about it. "Go to sleep Alex, we have around 300 miles to drive, I guarantee the trip will be uninteresting." Yassen said, his eyes fixed on the strip of road never ending road ahead.

:. :. :. :. :. :. :. :. :.

When Alex woke, he found himself alone in the car. He was at a petrol station, it was pitch black outside, save the one lamp post that flickered on and off, illuminating the petrol station in short bursts. Alex opened the car door, cool night air blew on his face. He had no idea where Yassen was, or when he was coming back. So Alex settled on a plan for escape.

Quietly, he slid out of the car, silently closing the door. He moved, keeping low to his left, towards the wall of the petrol station. He crept in the shadows along the front of the building. Then, he walked into something. For one, fleeting moment of terror, Alex thought he'd walked straight into the assassin, but a metal clang proved that instead he'd walked into a bin. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, before continuing his escape. He moved away from the building and felt around the ground, he could feel dry grass beneath his hands. He took another cautious step. However, this stride did not meet the floor, but instead emptiness, before he could blink, he was falling, into a pit of blackness.

Falling… falling…

Then, his shoulder impacted something. He seemed to be rolling down a bank of dried dirt and mud, his shoulders taking it in turns to smash painfully into the ground. Then, he impacted the solid earth, hearing his shoulder dislocate. He was also winded. He groaned as his face connected to the floor, adding a nose bleed to his list of injuries. His winded chest kept making him choke loud, uncontrollable donkey noises. He wanted to cry out in pain, but lack of air in his lungs prevented him from doing so.

Then, he heard light footsteps coming towards him. So much for escape.

"Alex." Yassen huffed, hauling the teen onto his shoulder and walking back up the bank with apparently no effort at all.

Yassen dropped Alex just outside the car.

"Alex, what were you doing in a ditch, winded, with a dislocated shoulder and a nose bleed?"

"Um… I was… Sleepwalking! Yeah… sleepwalking." Alex somewhat doubted Yassen would believe this, but he gave it a shot anyway.

Yassen just shook his head and twitched his lips in an amused fashion. "I knew I shouldn't have left you in the car. From the moment you walked into that bin, I knew you'd tried to escape. Alex's gaze dropped to the floor. How embarrassing. Alex Rider, teenage super spy, had walked into a-

CRACK!

Alex hissed in pain as Yassen re-located his shoulder.

-…-

"Tell me what you know, Moreau." A dark, foreign voice sounded.

"Of course Sir. Gregorovich has employed a British teenager from London. He appears to have known the boy for quite some time before employing him. I hacked Gregorovich's secretary's Laptop, it appears Yassen took the kid to Barcelona to observe an assassination."

"Who are they after?" The dark voice asked.

" Jonathan Wells."

"The man who made millions out of screwing the Scottish government?"

"Yes. Apparently he's enjoying his retirement in a sunny retirement home out there."

"For now. It would seem Yassen is desperate to make his organisation large in numbers." The dark voice said, only a hint of amusement evident in the foreign accent.

"It would look that way, but I've seen why he employed the boy. Alex Rider.

"Hmm… that name sounds familiar. I'll search it and send you what I find. Goodbye Moreau. Be cautious, you are a valuable asset to this organisation. I would lose a great deal of information if you were to die."

"Don't be concerned, I am _always_ cautious."

The line went dead.

Jackal smirked.

-…-

Barcelona was beautiful. Sun-soaked beaches and tanned Spaniards were everywhere. People milled about in revealing beach-wear and dark sunglasses, laughing and drinking. Children played in the sea while parents watched over them, ice-cream in hand. It was a happy sight, though sadly, not one Alex was able to enjoy. The Peugeot drove on, past the picture-perfect beaches, the bustling Spanish streets and the crowds of sun-kissed people to a more rural area of Barcelona. Where Spanish farmers or retired British millionaires lived.

Alex began to get a gist of where this was going.

"Let me fill you in Alex." Yassen said, eyes still fixed on the dusty road.

"We're going after a man named Jonathan Wells. I suppose you've heard of him on the news."

Alex nodded. Yassen continued.

"He's living a relaxed life here, in Barcelona. But not for much longer. Many people dislike him greatly. One his colleagues contacted me shortly after he retired and asked me to deal with him. I am going to be a member of the Scottish parliament who is on holiday with his son. I'm meant to be there to ask how his retirement is going… You can guess the rest." Yassen said, slowing the car down for a farmer and his heard of goats to pass.

"But, surely you can't just walk into his retirement home and say you work for the Scottish parliament. Surely he'd have body guards- and they for certain wouldn't just let you walk in and _'talk to' _him!" Alex protested, doubting Yassen.

"Good, good. You are right. The colleague I mentioned before gave me a copy of his ID and a latex mask. We, fortunately, are the same height. I'm going in under his name: Harry Wilson. You are his son: George Wilson. From what I understand, Jonathan Wells never saw Wilson's son."

"If he has, then we can just blame the fact that I look different on Alzheimer's disease" Alex murmured.

"Whatever works." Yassen said, moving the car forward after the last goat had skipped past.

"Now, we have an old man to kill."

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. I think it was a pretty decent length. I'm sorry if my writing was rubbish, you can kill me in a review in a minute if you like. I reckon you need the next chapter for this to sound less sloppy, but I really don't want to delay this chapter any longer. As always, reviews are gratefully received. I hope to update soon and reveal more of what's to come. Hope you like the story so far. See you soon!**

**Awesomehatyougotthere**


	7. Nothing is Infinite

**A/N: Hey guys. My thanks go out to all who have reviewed, I'm amazed that people have been bothered to put up with me for so long! In this chapter, Yassen will have a flashback! Yey… Flashbacks… **

**EXCITING NEWS! Scorpia rising is out on 31st**** March! I pre-ordered it, and I got the Alex Rider mission files (usually £15) for FREE! The actual Scorpia rising book only cost me £3.00, which I thought was super! Looking forward to it! And the Yassen info is tantalizing. But that would spoil things for you so…**

**Anyway, Here's another chapter, which, as always, I hope you find entertaining. Enjoy!**

Note: For anyone that didn't read the A/N: This chapter contains _A_ flashback. Don't worry! It's nothing rude or worthy of a warning, I'm just telling you that there will be a flashback. It's not even an important flashback, I'm just warning you-

London, England.

"Mr Blunt, Our agent is on the line for you." Mrs Jones announced.

Blunt grunted in response and picked up the phone.

"Alan Blunt."

"_Hello Mr Blunt." _The man on the other side of the line said flatly.

"Ah, Mr Moore. I'm glad to hear from you. I trust everything is going well so far. Tell me what you know." Blunt said, putting down the grey folder he had been studying.

There was pause on the other side, then a cough.

"_Gregorovich's organisation is not very secure, hence the fact I am still alive and talking to you. He's employed a child."_

Blunt nearly choked on his tea.

"A child? How old?"

"_Around… 14...15? I'm not entirely certain, but he looks that age."_

"Blonde?" Blunt asked. Mrs Jones looked up, giving Blunt an inquisitive look.

"_Yes. Brown eyes. Very skilled."_

Blunt bit back a sigh of relief

"Thank you, Mr Moore. Please be more careful than your partner, I can't afford to lose another double agent." Blunt promptly put the phone down and look at Jones.

"We should have guessed." Blunt said, shaking his head. Jones furrowed her brow.

"I think we've found Alex Rider."

…...

Barcelona, Spain.

A red Peugeot pulled into the car park of a private nursing home. Alex, though still reluctant to witness an assassination, climbed out of the car. A butler came to greet them.

"Bienvenido to the Solscope retirement home. If you please, the resident you are looking for is over in the VIP wing. This way." A man with a strong Spanish accent said, gesturing for the two to follow him. Yassen complied and silently followed the tanned man like a shadow.

Alex admired the scenery that they walked past. Palm trees swayed in a light breeze, their hand-shaped leafs of which they got their name from were gently swatting each other. The sandy floor was smothered with golden beams of sun. Small shrubs rustled gently next to each other, while small birds hopped around the floor, searching for food. It was so quiet. So peaceful.

"George?"

Alex heard his false name called and turned to face the source. An unfamiliar face was looking at him. It was Yassen, in a latex mask. Alex stopped staring at bird pecking at his feet and hastily caught up with Yassen and the Spanish Butler.

The butler brought them to a large ground-floor building. He knocked on the wooden door and waited. A muffled voice started yelling excitedly on the other side.

"Jeeves? Is that you? Are my visitors here?"

The Spanish man looked quite irritated for a second.

"Mr Wells. For the ninth time, my name, is Giovanni. Yes, your visitors are here. If you would be so kind as to let them in, I'm sure they would be very grateful."

"Of course Jeeves, of course." The voice on the other side said, fumbling to open the door.

Eventually, the door was opened and a short fat man stepped out, vigorously shaking hands with Yassen and inviting him in. The man, who Alex guessed was Jonathan Wells, turned to 'George'.

"Oh, Mr Wilson! This must be your son! It's good to meet you lad!" Wells exclaimed, slapping Alex on the back with perhaps a little too much force.

"Come in! Come in!" Jonathan ushered and practically dragged them into a sitting room.

The room was stunning. The walls and floor were made of

glossy yellow marble, a great fireplace -god knows what good a

fireplace would do in Spain! It was probably simply for

decoration- was sat in front of them. Some leather chairs were

planned out around an elaborate glass coffee table. An expensive

painting of a white horse being attacked by a lion hung

weightlessly above the fireplace.

Once sat, Yassen handed Wells a bottle of Scottish whiskey and started to converse. Alex realised: There was more to being an assassin than simply killing someone. It was clever. Assassins were artists. They could act and lie; convince someone that they were to be trusted. Assassins never left anything to chance. They always had many escape routes planned, even escape routes from escape routes. They planned how their work would succeed and what they needed to achieve. They were like spiders. They'd spin an elaborate and beautiful web of lies to lure the prey, then, they strike. It was like holding someone's hand, then twisting their wrist. It was wrong. But damn clever.

"This is fine whiskey Harry! My doctor says I am not to have it, but I never listen to him anyway!" The old man chuckled, calling Yassen by his false name. Yassen smiled and nodded.

"So… How have you been my friend?" Yassen asked lightly.

"Oh, I'm having the time of my life! No more Scottish government, no more paper work! Just life in the sun! If only it was infinite…" The old man said dreamily. Alex looked over at Yassen and was surprised to see that the man was caught up in his thoughts.

"_Nothing is infinite Yassen, remember that. When the quiet of death claims you, remember, the silence wont last forever."_

Alex waved his hand in front of Yassen's face.

"Dad?"

Yassen blinked a few times before focusing on Wells.

"My apologies," Yassen apologised, "It must be the heat getting to my head, you know what it's like in Scotland."

"God, I know! Don't even mention rain to me! I've had enough of the stuff to last a life time!" Yassen and Wells then launched into a long conversation about the weather which Alex soon lost interest in. He took to staring out the window while the adults droned on. Alex almost felt sorry for Yassen.

….

It grew dark in the French alps quickly.

Up high on a ridge, over-looking the training grounds, was Yassen's main base. The lights were off and long shadows were splashed around the floor due to the silvery moonlight streaming through the blinds. Everything was still. Everything was silent. Everything, but one thing. Jackal.

The man stalked quietly around The secretary's desk, glancing briefly at files that may contain something of value.

Pulling on some medical gloves so he didn't leave fingerprints, Jackal took control at the computer. His partner, Henderson, who died a few weeks ago, _had_ been Yassen's previous secretary, and already passed on the password to him, so getting into the files was easy. He pulled a file scanner out of his pocket and plugged it into the USB port. Within seconds, every one of the secretary's files was safely copied onto the scanner. He smirked. If Yassen ever found out about this, _another_ secretary would be on the chopping block.

….

19:33 The Solscope nursing home

After getting acquainted with Wells for a few hours, Giovanni, the butler of whom they'd met at the nursing home gates, had led them to family quarters in a different part of the home. The rooms were pretty much average 4-star hotel quality, however, Alex didn't mind. He didn't have to stay In the same room as the assassin, so he was happy enough.

"Are you going to sleep tonight, or are you going to kill the poor guy in _his_ sleep?" Alex questioned, the 'poor guy' being Jonathan Wells.

" I'm not going to kill him tonight. Tomorrow, we make preparations, then in the evening, we kill him.

Alex nodded, then frowned.

"Wait. _We_?"

Yassen's mouth twitched in amusement, and he simply turned back to watching the pasta he was cooking in the pot before him.

"We."

**A/N: Wow, this is really starting to drag on a bit! Jeez, sorry guys! Anyway, hope you enjoyed it. I apologise for the fact that the update took so long, I kinda managed to find myself in Austria, skiing. Oops… oh well, the chapter is quite long. As always, I ask that you review because reveiws are always useful, and always warmly received. God bless you all. :D**

**Oh God, and I nearly forgot, THANKYOU SO MUCH TO THOSE WHO REVEIWED! God bless you all too.**

**Awesomehatyougotthere**


	8. BANG! and the Scotsman's gone

**A/N: Hey guys! I am loving all the reviews so far! It's good to know what I can change and if you're enjoying the story. I'm sorry for the extremely **_**late update **_**(ha, that rhymes) At first I kinda got a little (completely) distracted by Scorpia rising, which is AWESOME if you haven't read it yet! Then I was simply being lazy, SORRY! Anyways, hope you like this chapter, Enjoy!**

**Oh, and ****Shalimar**** Don't worry, Yassen is going to get his revenge soon enough, probably after this chapter. MWHAHAHAHA! (insert thunder and lightning) **

When Jonathan Wells woke up, the first thing he noticed was the golden rays of sunlight streaming through his curtains. The second thing he noticed, was the pounding headache that came with drinking too much whiskey. Groaning, he rolled out of bed and slowly got to his feet. Life in Spain had been great. Ever since he had screwed his political ties, he'd been living the high life. In his opinion, the meet-up with Harry Wilson had gone well. They had talked about many things, like retirement, Scotland, alcohol (which in Jonathan's opinion was the most important thing) and it was delightful to meet Harry's rather quiet son, George.

Slowly, Jonathan Wells heaved himself out of bed, joints clicking as he straightened his legs. He trudged into the wet room to run a shower, however, only to discover that his shower was refusing to work. He growled before reaching for the phone that was positioned just outside the wet room.

"Jeeves!" He snapped.

"Mr Wells." The butler/slave named Giovanni replied grimly.

"The shower isn't working! Who built this thing? I demand that someone is sent here to fix it at once!" Wells said through gritted teeth, he expected nothing but the best from this retirement home.

On the other side of the phone, Giovanni inwardly sighed. This man had so many complaints!

"Certainly sir. While we fix your shower, we can get you a wash elsewhere. Is that OK with you?" Giovanni said.

"It'll do, but if my shower isn't fixed soon, I'll put in an official complaint!" Jonathan Wells threatened, slamming the phone down for effect. Giovanni desperately wanted to swear every curse word existing down the phone at the Scottish moron, but of course, he knew how unprofessional and likely-to-get-him-fired that was. The Spaniard rolled his eyes and picked up the phone to dial a plumber.

…

Yassen smiled and put down his listening device. After catching his four hours of sleep, Yassen had decided to make the first preparations for the assassination. It was midnight when he'd broken into Wells' apartment and rigged the shower to stop working. It may have been easier to kill Wells there and then simply by turning on the gas from the oven and shoving a newspaper in the toaster, but Yassen decided to let Alex do that later in the day.

Alex yawned as he trudged heavily into the kitchen. Yassen got up out of his seat.

"The only thing the nursing home has provided us to eat is fruit," Yassen announced, distastefully pushing a stripy bowl in Alex's direction. The bowl was filled with a variety of fruits, only some of which Alex recognised. Alex grimaced.

"Aw, and I was looking forward to coco pops this morning."

Alex poked an apricot. "What did you eat?"

Yassen went over to the window and opened it, "Nothing. The fruit is off. That kiwi, next to the banana, isn't a kiwi, it's a mouldy plum."

Alex's hand immediately retracted from the Apricot he'd poked.

"Strangely, I don't feel so hungry anymore."

…

Hot water ran smoothly over the elephantine body of Jonathan Wells, silvery fingers gliding over the hunching shoulders and podgy stomach. It was a typical start to the day for Wells. His routine always began with waking up, then showering, eating, a walk around the home, pestering Giovanni, eating, sleeping, reading, eating, TV, shower, eat, sleep. For a sixty-something year old, all that work was pretty tiring. The shower in his wet room back in his apartment was still out of order, so his stupid slave had arranged for him to use the one on the top floor of the 'staff accommodation' flat.

After using a heavily mint-scented shower gel, he stepped out of the shower and dried off, wrapping a large dressing-gown around himself.

As he was using the head of the nursing home's shower (he had specifically asked to use this one after being offered somewhere to shower) there was a balcony just outside the kitchen, which was located just behind the wet room door. He was tempted to use it, just to lounge in the morning sun, but instead decided to use it later after his second shower.

…

Blunt's office, MI6:

"He's in the French alps, we'll send over a squad tomorrow, they'll reach the destination within a few hours by helicopter." Blunt said, his second in command scribbling the heads demands on a post-it note.

"Will one squad be enough? Gregorovich has a whole organisation of killers and espionage experts at his disposal, likely well armed also." Mrs Jones responded, her pen momentarily at a pause, waiting for Blunt's response. Blunt considered for a moment.

"Send two squads. Well armed, with a chopper gunner. That should do it."

Mrs Jones mentally sighed. Blunt's time as head of MI6 was coming to an end and the old man just didn't think things through anymore.

"So, as it stands, you've requested:

2 squads, heavily armed,

A chopper gunner,

A black-bird medical helicopter,

Eight tanks,

America's entire missile collection,

The HMS Cumbria

And a packet of custard creams."

"Fantastic! Send the requests, and tomorrow, Alex Rider will be enslaved- I mean protected by us once again" Blunt clapped his hands together and looked at a grey file on his desk.

"…Right away Sir…" Mrs Jones said hesitantly.

…

Alex heard light, almost silent footfall on the wooden floor behind him. He timed the space between each step, and struck at precisely the right time. At the last moment, he swivelled round, sharply lashing out with his foot in a back kick that should have planted itself into Yassen's abdomen, winding the assassin at the very least, knocking him out if he was lucky. But to Alex's dismay, he found his foot only meeting with empty air. Yassen had either anticipated his attack or dodged it with incredible speed.

He turned 360 degrees, eyes frantically searching the room for the assassin's presence. _Where is he? _He felt something touch his shoulder. He twisted round, simultaneously executing a perfect forward jab, but the strike, once again, met only air. There was a blur of movement as a pale hand severed the air and damn near severed Alex's head too if the teen hadn't responded as quickly as he had. The blow smacked into his shoulder, it was like being hit by a brick! Alex was nearly thrown off his feet. The entire room shuddered and went dark. Desperately, he tried to move into a more defensive stance, crossing his arms over his head. Yassen expected it. Alex felt an arm close tightly around his throat, a hand pressed against his head. In one simple movement, Yassen could break his neck.

"Good fight, however, you were far too rigid, try to be more mobile next time." Yassen announced, releasing his grip. Alex released the breath he'd been holding whilst nearly obtaining a broken neck. He nodded.

"So," He panted, "How are you going to kill Jonathan Wells?"

Yassen bit back a small smirk.

"While he's taking his second shower later this evening, we'll sneak into his apartment and make the oven explode, consequently bringing the house down in the blast. Wells must be in the apartment when the explosion goes off, so our timing must be perfect. We leave, Wells goes into the apartment, Wells dies."

"That's not exactly discreet." Alex pointed out.

"No, but it doesn't have to be. I'm being paid to kill him, my employer doesn't care how I do so. Besides, Wells drinks two bottles of Whiskey a day the police will think he was drunk when he turned the oven on to bake his cheesy vegetables, and forgot to shut the door. Then he put a newspaper in the toaster instead of slices of bread. When the paper popped up, Wells died. All evidence will be destroyed, authorities will be left guessing." Yassen concluded. "Now, ready to fight again?"

…

9:00 PM, Well's apartment.

Alex stalked around the dark apartment, careful not to trip over any of Wells' discarded Whiskey bottles. For some reason, doing this just felt right to Alex, like he had meant to be here all his life, doing this. Yassen had used a lock-pick gun to open the door without forcing it open, as the police would find that suspicious. And now, as Alex followed Yassen's path to the kitchen, he couldn't help but wonder: _Was this really meant for him? _Could he really do this sort of work, time and time again? Alone? For money? It seemed unfulfilling, taking someone's life, hiding away from the real world, all for something as common as money. You'd never be able to live your own life, because you'd always have to be someone else, pretending to fit into society, hiding what you truly were. Doing that was just an act, and the people you deceived were usually the ones that died. Alex could recall the time he had had tea with Damian Cray. Yassen had been there. The assassin had looked… uncomfortable, with drinking tea around other people. Maybe he was simply concerned about being poisoned, or because Alex was there, or maybe he just didn't like the beverage, but more likely he just simply wasn't used to having civilised, normal conversations over a cup of tea. When Alex had asked him a question, he could have sworn he saw Yassen's jaw freeze.

Imagine going through an airport, every time you walked in as a different person with a different passport. If you drove somewhere you'd have to take long, ridiculous detours to shake off any followers. All the false looks, acts, lives, what made assassination a worth while job? Every day, you'd be on alert, every second, someone might be targeting you. Relax for one minute, and it might cost you your life. Then again, you could hardly be called alive if you don't live your _own _life.

There was a price to being an assassin, and, to be honest, to Alex, the effort just didn't seem worth it.

"Alex, focus." Yassen whispered as he gently edged open the door to the kitchen. Alex snapped out of his thoughts, trailing behind Yassen.

The kitchen was a vast expanse of black, silver and white. A huge table sat in the centre with the dark granite work top lining every wall of the room. Yassen spied the great metallic oven sandwiched between the dish washer and fridge. He went over to the fridge, pulling the door open with one fluid hand movement. He opened the oven with one of his feet. In a way he reminded Alex of Jack, haphazardly cooking whatever she wanted at break-neck speed. _Is he getting a snack? Surely this isn't the time… _Alex thought. Yassen grabbed some vegetables and a block of cheese, pulling a knife out of the draw and slicing them with incredible speed and accuracy. He found a tray and laid the chopped vegetables down, spreading the cheese over the top.

"Alex, turn the oven on full, leave the door open." He said, laying down the last few pieces while Alex complied. Yassen put the tray onto the middle rack before picking up the newspaper near the bread bin and shoving it into the toaster. "We have two minutes. Get running."

…

Wells opened his apartment door, fresh and smelling of mint after his second shower of the day. He'd taken quite a long stroll and taken the time to enjoy the balcony, and now he was home, he felt hungry. He ambled into the kitchen, noticing the smell of gas. "What the?" He saw the newspaper in the toaster.

"Oh-" He didn't get to say the last word.

…

"I hope you enjoyed your stay Mr Wilson." Giovanni said, waving Well's visitors out of the gate. Suddenly, a loud, glass-shattering roar ripped through the air like a missile. Giovanni jumped, turning. His eyes met flames, falling debris, and the burning bones of Jonathan Wells' apartment. The flames were tearing into the sky in a blazing inferno of smoke and ash.

Giovanni sighed. "Ah mierda! I cannot afford _another _insurance claim…"

…

"Jonathan Wells has been, well, toasted." Alex said, looking back at the furnace he was partly responsible for. That was probably one of his worst end-of-mission quotes he'd ever said, but The name Wells didn't really go with being set on fire. _If only he'd been called Jonathan Fry…_

"We're going back to the alps now. There, we'll work on your combat a bit more." Yassen announced, ice-blue eyes once again fixed on the grey tarmac. Alex, for some reason, didn't seem to notice that he'd just been involved with the death of a man who was now never to walk on this Earth again. Maybe he was used to death now, after all hadn't he really been the cause for those other villains to die? Cray- Alex had pushed the serving trolley on which the pop-singer had been grasping, straight out the door of the plane. Sarov- Alex had refused to be the man's son, and it drove the Russian to suicide. Grief- He'd steered a snow mobile straight into Grief's helicopter. There were more. Nile and Rothman. Nadia Vole. Conrad. Right now, he didn't feel anything. No guilt. No shame. Nothing.

Nothing.

**OH MY GOD! I finished this Chapter! Finally! (insert hallelujah song) Again, sorry for the SLOW update, but at least it's done now. SO VERY THANKFUL for ALL the REVIEWS. (Bubzchoc, 32-star, LovesWritingJ, Shalimar, SelenaRoX, Thebeautifulbicky and Griffin) Kept me going. **

**Will update some when, but I'm seriously doubting a quick update. PLEASE REVIEW! I need to know what you thought, I thought I really messed up the end. Action will be hotting up in the next chapter, see you then!**

**Awesomehatyougotthere**


	9. Lost in Smoke

**A/N: Hey guys! (readers throw tomatoes) Gah! I know, I know! I'm sorry, I'm too lazy for my own good! I'm SORRY! Well, I promised action, and action's what you're gonna get! I hope… so… ENJOY!**

Note: Oh, and there's minor swearing in this, sorry. If it's a problem, just replace every word with muffins or 'Fire truck' or something.

A red Peugeot 206 trundled along the winding mountain roads, skirting perhaps a little too close to the edge of a 100 meter drop-off while a bus passed. Yassen sat silently, patiently, waiting for the bus to pass before returning to full acceleration. He was thinking.

Had he really made the right decision? Bringing Alex into his world? He reminded himself that _he _hadn't, Alex's own family had. And once you were in the world of assassins, the only way out was death. There was no way Yassen was going to let _that_ happen. Alex was safe, away from the ungrateful MI6, and the pay-high-enough-and-you-get-what-you-want-even-if-it-involves-the-death-of-our-own-people Scorpia. It was best that Alex was where he was.

Yassen turned down a hidden segment of road, which no one other than it's users knew the existence of. The road lead off to another secluded road, which lead further into the mountains and eventually into the EP base. It was late in the evening and the mountains were as quiet and tranquil as ever.

Yassen just stared at the road. The slug of grey that never seemed to end. It sprawled out all over the world, every single path seemed to connect to the others, uniting every corner or crag of a country yet still leaving it so bare and lonely. A road could lead you anywhere. A road could get you lost. A road, Yassen thought, was just as boring as life itself. Grey, bumpy, ongoing, twisted, only varying in size or shade of grey. A road was a road. A life was a life. A road was a life. A life was a road. Yassen mentally shot himself, deciding never again think of such ridiculous, depressing metaphoric theories. Maybe fatigue from driving for so long was getting to him after all. It didn't matter, the base was looming up towards them. Or at least, it was…

…

"Cedar-87, we have visualisation on the base, repeat: We have visualisation!" a voice crackled over a handheld transceiver.

"Affirmative. Ready to blow this nest?"

"Ready."

"Prepare to jump. Door is opening"

A team of highly experienced SAS soldiers readied themselves for one hell of a jump. The plan was to jump into the base, shoot everyone, grab the Rider kid, run their asses off to meet up with the other assisting squad, then leg it into the helicopter. And go home. In one piece preferably.

Icy mountain air rushed into their faces as the helicopter door opened, spitting SAS soldiers into the night. The helicopter rotors sliced through the air, the near-silent hiss of each blade in the breeze like a soundscape to ardor. To honour. Not a single man hesitated before throwing themselves out of the helicopter.

…

Jackal watched amusedly at the dark blotches of parachute that blossomed in the sky. _And this is supposed to be stealthy? _He thought, dropping his cigarette and grinding it into the floor. He looked briefly at the explosive charges he had planted on the large tanks of fuel the base used to power their organisation. Jackal walked away, in no particular hurry to get a safe distance from the explosive charges if they accidentally went off. _Just a few more minutes… _He said to himself. _Wait for Gregorovich and Rider._

He saw dim headlights glare through trees. They were coming. The small road used to gain access to EP was disturbed by the rickety choke of a Peugeot 206 dragging itself into the mountains. As the engine slowly grew louder, gun shots started echoing around the base. A siren, blaring and unfamiliar sounded, triggering shouts of desperate confusion and fear. _It's starting. _

The car was visible now, details coming clearer every second. Closer, closer, Jackal could nearly make out the pale of Gregorovich's skin, the rust on the grill of the car. _Now._

…

Alex was jolted from his sleep by an ear-splitting explosion. Fire and ash billowed up, engulfing half the base in one bite. Orange and red collided with black and white, dark stone obliterated by the sheer impact of the disaster, snow practically vaporised by the blistering heat. Alex stared, stunned, turning to Yassen.

"Something's not right." Yassen said, unfazed.

"No shit!" Alex shrieked, tightening his white-knuckle grip on his chair. Suddenly they were approached by a small team of around 7 SAS soldiers. Their numbers had obviously decreased in the explosion because the men didn't seem so sure of themselves, one was trembling with not what would be described as one off the happiest expressions on his face. Weapons were raised, half-heartedly to say the least, powered more by blind hurt for their lost comrades than confidence in their mission.

"Give us the boy! We will shoot you!" One said, stepping slightly closer. Yassen didn't respond. He was thinking.

"I doubt the SAS would have blown themselves up, and I didn't give the command… so who did?" Yassen wondered aloud.

The SAS guy fired a warning shot into the floor, chips of tarmac splintered into the air. Yassen still didn't respond.

"Yassen…?" Alex murmured, horribly aware of the guns trained on them. Yassen's eyes focused again, seemingly deciding on something. Yassen hammered the car into acceleration. He went straight into a row of SAS, knocking them down like green bottles sitting on a wall, a few quick-thinkers had dived over to the side, quickly regaining their footing and placing blind shots in the direction of Yassen. They must have guessed the windows were bullet-proof, otherwise taking the shots would have been too likely to come into contact with the boy they were unsuccessfully trying to rescue. Yassen opened his car door, using it to shield him as he placed a well-aimed shot straight through both wrists of a soldier, resulting in his machine-gun being dropped and his wrists half torn off his arms. He screamed, paralyzed with shock and pain. His comrades acted swiftly, two feeling especially brave went directly up to Yassen, though soon regretting it as Yassen pulled a biro out of his pocket and shot one man in the shoulder and stabbed the other with the biro. The man fell on the floor.

"How can a biro k-"

"He's not dead, the ink is a fast acting sedative." Yassen responded to Alex's question, simultaneously knocking out a soldier with a simple kick to the head.

Only one soldier remained, the one that stood trembling, clutching his gun to his chest. Yassen aimed his gun at him.

"What happened here?" he asked pointedly. The soldier slowly opened his mouth to respond before red blossomed from the back of his head. The man crumpled, his limbs going limp as he fell forwards. Dead, before he hit the floor. Behind him stood a man. A man with a vengeful glare in his dark eyes. A fiendish smirk plastered on his sharp face along with other menacing features.

"Jackal."

…

"Blunt! We've got an awful situation in the mountains. Our first squad has stopped responding, and according to our double agent, there was an explosion that caught members of both squads. The second squad is apparently-"

"_This is Cedar! This is Cedar! We've found the target. The first squad is here, from the looks of things we have six casualties and a stiff. There's a guy, talkin' to the assassin, they're both pointing' guns at each other. He looks like our double agent." _a voice shouted on a transceiver. Blunt shot up from his seat. A frown etched on his face.

"_Oh bloody 'ell! What is he doin'?" _

Blunt and Jones heard a muffled shout of: "_Shoot him!" _from the other end.

"_He's not doin' it! Shoot! Shoot! Shoo-" _

The soldier on the other side of the line was abruptly cut off by a spray of bullets.

"Cedar?" Jones questioned, a twist of concern creasing her brow.

Silence.

"Cedar-87? Speak to me Cedar!"

Silence.

"_It's no use Jonesy. They're dead. I killed them. Now I'm going to get my revenge for when that bastard Rider betrayed us! And you can't stop me!"_

Blunt snatched the phone from his subordinate. "Henderson, what the hell are you doing? You work for me! You're my double agent!"

"_Ah, there you are wrong Mr Blunt. I'm not your double. I'm A triple. For the Mafia."_

…

Jackal threw the transceiver onto the floor, the black frame clattering against the ash peppered ground.

"The Mafia. Hm. I suppose you've been feeding information from my organisation, to MI6, then from MI6 to your people. A bit like Ian Rider. Some people never change." Yassen said, his hand unwavering as the gun he had trained itself on the man before him.

"Don't you EVER, _ever_ compare me to _that _man. He betrayed us. All of us! MI6 have taken their revenge by using that kid, but now, it's our turn. He _will_ kill him!" Jackal snarled, eyes burning with a flame of intense hatred. Whatever Ian Rider had done, it sure did have an effect on him.

Yassen sighed, unfortunately, his gun was devoid of ammunition. He turned to a pale-faced Alex.

"Alex. Run."

Yassen lunged toward Jackal, fast-moving and fluid, closing the space between them. Jackal didn't even have time to react before he was thrown backwards by a solid punch in the face. Blood seeped from his nose, but he didn't reach up to wipe it away, instead using his hands to block this next attack. Out of the corner of his furious eyes he saw the that damn Rider sprinting for his life into the depths of the burning base. Idiot. Jackal tried to shove Gregorovich away, unsuccessfully. The assassin was cutting off his air supply with one hand pressed on his wind pipe, another disallowing him to move away. He used one of his arms to break the grip, then jerked back, away from Yassen's hand. The assassin noticed this, bringing his right leg forward to hook behind Jackal's in an Osoto Gari essentially tripping him, however, Jackal acted just as fast, sliding to the side and throwing the assassin over his shoulder. Ippon Seoinage. Yassen managed to flip onto his front at the last second before hitting the floor, using a front break-fall to save him from one hell of an impact.

Yassen sprang up, planting his fist in Jackals stomach. Jackal doubled over, winded as more and more bone breaking blows rained down on him. He grabbed Yassen's lapel, crossing his arms and strangling him.

The two struggled against each other, somehow falling into an arms room. Neither considered grabbing a gun, firing something in here would be devastating. Yassen was almost completely starved of oxygen, he attempted to break the grip but Jackal abruptly kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying into a wall of guns with enough force to break ribs. A few guns fell onto the assassin smacking him in the face. It didn't matter though as he was already unconscious. Jackal smirked before returning outside to hunt down his prize.

"That's going to hurt in the morning."

…

Alex was lost. He'd stupidly decided to head into the base, hoping to lose his enemy in the fires and rubble. Unfortunately, Alex hadn't had time to learn the layout of the base when it had been intact so he was completely lost in the ongoing depths of a burning world. It was hot and choking amidst the flames, he couldn't take much more. Buildings had fallen next to him and the fire was nearing him every minute, flames reaching out like arms, yearning to consume him. He fell to his knees, coughing on smoke and ash. He was sweating terribly.

_I wonder if Yassen has killed that moron yet. What's his problem. So my Uncle apparently betrayed MI6 and the Mafia. So? It's not like he's innocent of such a thing. _Alex thought bitterly. Although his uncle had been traitorous, and the only reason Alex was here was because of Family tradition and certain people's thirst for revenge, he couldn't hate his uncle. MI6 were morbid. They did evil things. Alex had learnt that a long time ago. _But… isn't my uncle evil… for giving information to evil people. Isn't my father evil… for working for evil people. Aren't I evil? _

Click-click.

Alex looked up, interrupted from his thoughts. Jackal was stood over him, gun in had, gleam in eye. "That was clumsy, leaving footprints in the ash like that. No matter. You have 20 seconds to live."

…

**A/N: Well, there it is, chapter 9! Hope you liked it! As usual I'd like to say a MASSIVE thanks to all reviewers, especially masterjedispycornthecucumber (I hope that's right. Cheers! :D) Albany (Thanks! Though my Spanish isn't that good.) Shalimar (Thanks so much!) And 32-star (Thanks to you too!) Please review and I should update some when. Thanks for taking the time to read this, hope you like it. **

**Awesomehatyougotthere :D**

**(Ps: again, sorry for the late update.)**


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